Tag Archives: screeching weasel

Dear Dionysus XX: Book ‘Em, Crewcut

Dear Dionysus XX: Book ‘Em, Crewcut

Dear Dionysus,

Cad Bop had me alone now. I was, in the literal and figurative sense of the term, his captive audience. He was truly relishing the ordeal, Dionysus. Either he had truly convinced himself that I was a calculating sexual predator or he was merely another sadist with a badge who got off on making other people squirm. And squirming in handcuffs ain’t comfortable, love.

I could see his nefarious eyes in the center rear view mirror every time he addressed me with a question. The entire thing was a set up, and his queries were no exception.

Cad Bop: You know, I know your kind. I deal with them all the time. You think you’re real cool, a tough guy. And sometimes the girls fall for it, sure. But when they don’t, it doesn’t matter anyways because you have other ways of getting what you want, don’t you?
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